Right Here Waiting
by beautifulworld
Summary: Karen's response to Stan being sent to prison. Short oneoff fanfiction.


**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Not making any money. The song is Richard Marx's "Right Here Waiting".

**Spoilers: **4.03 "Crouching Father, Hidden Husband"

**Notes: **Just exorcising a few demons. This is from Karen's POV – the parts in italics are when she's actually talking to Stan (in her head – he's not there, obviously, he's in prison cos he's an idiot…), the rest of the time she's just thinking.

_Oceans apart_

_Day after day_

_And I slowly go insane_

_I hear your voice on the line_

_But it doesn't stop the pain_

_If I see you next to never_

_How can we say forever_

_Wherever you go, whatever you do, _

_I will be right here waiting for you_

_Whatever it takes_

_Or how my heart breaks_

_I will be right here waiting for you_

_I took for granted all the times_

_That I thought would last somehow_

_I hear the laughter, I taste the tears_

_But I can't get near you now_

_Oh can't you see it baby_

_You've got me going crazy_

_If I see you next to never_

_How can we say forever_

_Wherever you go, whatever you do, _

_I will be right here waiting for you_

_Whatever it takes_

_Or how my heart breaks_

_I will be right here waiting for you_

_I wonder how we can survive this romance_

_But in the end if I'm with you_

_I'll take the chance_

_Oh can't you see it baby_

_You've got me going crazy_

_Wherever you go, whatever you do, _

_I will be right here waiting for you_

_Whatever it takes_

_Or how my heart breaks_

_I will be right here waiting for you_

A crystal glass lies on its side on the plush carpet, a few drops of golden liquor spilling out. I resist the temptation to reach out and grasp it, capture the last of the precious liquid. Instead I heave myself to my feet from my position sprawled across the floor, and survey my surroundings. Our bedroom, usually so spotless, shows the telltale signs of – for lack of a better word, a tantrum, I suppose. Stan's come to know when I'm in a bad mood, come to recognise the sound of a filled glass of liquor hitting the wall. He knows to stay out of my way until I've stopped screaming into my pillow, knows that it's best just to stay out of the room until I'm sobbing into the five-hundred dollar sheets. And then he's there, his arms encircling me, his tears mingling with mine. He always cries when I do, and when I ask him why, he says that he hates to see me hurting.

_Well, you didn't think about that this time, did you Stan? You didn't think about me when you went and got yourself thrown into prison. How could you not know how much I need you?_

Jack, trying to help in his own unique way, commented earlier that Stan's actions, despicable as they are, paid for my new Tiffany diamonds. They paid for the place in the Bahamas, and the new limo. Because that makes it all right. I'd forgotten, I'm Karen Walker, shallow socialite, I care about nothing but my own entertainment and the money that Stan so willingly provides.

I think they forget sometimes that I met Stan ten years before we married. In those ten years he made his millions, but I'd fallen in love with him on the day we met. I fell in love with a fat man who was nothing more than a humble owner of a mattress company. Perhaps I knew even then that he would come to be an exceptional businessman, that he would come to support me in the lifestyle to which I've become accustomed. But I never fell in love with Stan's money.

_I fell in love with you, Stan. God only knows why. No, that's not true. I know why I love you, I know every second of every day that I'll always love you. Because a love like this doesn't come easily. I don't love easily, and I told you that the day that we met. And you told me that you didn't care, that you knew you'd come to love me because no God would be so cruel as to put me in your life and not have me love you._

_And that's when I fell in love with you._

_I'll be waiting, Stan. Because I don't know how not to. You make me feel better than I've ever felt before. You make me _feel_. And that's why I won't drink those last few drops of liquor nestling in the bottom of the glass. That's why I won't call Pharmacist and tell him it hurts and what can he give me to make it stop. Because I'm not ready to stop feeling. Not yet. I'm not ready to give up on us. I'll be waiting._


End file.
